Just a Nibble
by Athena2693
Summary: Poor Wolfram. It must be disturbing to have a sword fall in love with you. Slight Yuuram implied.


Title: Just a Nibble

Author: Athena2693

Rating: Oh, I don't know, PG? For implied perverseness?

Summary: Basically, just a short scene where Morgif decides Wolfram's pretty.

Spoilers: Know what Morgif is? Know who Greta is? Than you should be fine.

A/N: This is really short, and I'm not sure if I'll continue it at all. It's my first publish KKM fic to date, and I've only seen to episode 66.

Just a Nibble

"Yuri, I want that shirt in five seconds, or I'm returning to the castle like this, and letting Gwendal handle you."

Yuri paused for a moment in his searching, considering the situation. He could see it in his head. Dozens of townsfolk fainting along the roadside as the maou's gorgeous fiancée rode towards the castle. His pale skin, starting to flush pink beneath the hot summer sun, maybe even glistening with sweat. Gwendal meeting them at the castle gates, taking one glance at his half naked little brother, and turning that frown immediately to the maou's direction. Of course, he'd demand an explanation as to why Wolfram was riding through town in such an indignant manner, why Yuri had allowed his creamy skin to burn, why he would let the commoners see his adorable baby brother in such a manner.

He shuddered inwardly. Gwendal might actually kill him for something like this.

"It's not my fault you threw up on the rest of your shirts," Yuri grumbled lowly, his face turned down to the task at hand. Evidently, not low enough.

"Who's the one who has to keep escaping to these absurd adventures? Who's the one who's such a cheater I can't take my eyes off of him for a moment? Who's the one who didn't bother to bring any nice clothes and had to wear my dress shirt to the council?" Wolfram stood behind Yuri still, towering in his half naked glory, arms crossed across his pale chest. He was in a mood. Best not to argue with him. He supervised Yuri's chaotic pursuit of the scrap of light blue silk.

"Just give me a minute. I know I put it in my trunk somewhere. I didn't have a key to yours, and you were asleep by the time I got in."

The dark haired boy might've been half asleep when he got in that night, but he remembered it perfectly. The blond had been sprawled out entirely across their king sized bed in the castle, so Yuri had been careful to light a lantern and open his trunk. His trunk always squeaked, so he had been extra careful, that night, to open it slowly, as to not awaken the slumbering beauty. He remembered folding the shirt carefully, and dusting off any wayward dust from the silk, because Wolfram would kill him for getting it dirty. He had refused to eat or drink anything while wearing it, fearing the blonde's wrath.

"You only wore it a couple days ago. What'd you do? I bet some big-breasted whore spilled wine on it when you were flirting, didn't she? And you burned the evidence!"

"I most certainly did not! There weren't even any women there! Well, besides Clara."

"Who's Clara," Wolfram demanded immediately, in what Yuri had recently dubbed his "bitchy voice."

"The king's eighty-one year old mother," Yuri replied simply, still rummaging through the pounds of crap in his trunk.

"Ha! You're going for younger woman now even! You gigolo!"

"Wolfram, she's human!"

"So what? That's like, what, my mother's age in human years?"

"Why do I put up with you? Here, hold our your arms. Gunter just packed too much junk in here." Wolfram obeyed, wearing that cute little frown that Yuri had come to recognize as discomfort. The maou loaded the blonde's arms with cloth and metal, turned to the trunk, and loaded on more.

"Oh, there you are Morgif. Why are you here?" Yuri greeted the familiar hunk of metal affectionately; who 'oohed' at him in return, then tossed it into Wolfram's arms.

"Maybe you didn't spill wine on it," Wolfram considered, more to himself than Yuri, "But that doesn't mean you weren't dancing with some whore, and didn't have to send it to the cleaners to wash off the stink of bad perfume."

"Whatever you want to believe, Wolfram," Yuri pushed off the accusation. "Hey, I wonder if I might've-"

"Ow! What the fuck!" Hearing Wolfram curse, Yuri turned his head to see what the commotion was about. All the clean clothing and delicate possessions Yuri had thrown in Wolfram's arms now lay in a heap on the floor, as Wolfram's fists clenched at Morgif's handle, desperately tugging at the dopey sword. It took a moment for the sight to sink into Yuri's mind. Morgif, the maou's sword, had latched onto Wolfram, had actually bit down, hard, by the discomfort on Wolfram's face, onto the blonde's delicate, pert little nipple.

"Morgif!" Yuri shouted, absolutely horrified, "What do you think you're doing? Let him go!" Yuri grabbed for the bottom of the handle, below the blonde's own hands, and pulled at the lecherous weapon. It refused to budge.

"Watch it," Wolfram cried out, rather obviously in pain. "He's hurting me!"

"Hey look, a pretty maid," Yuri cried out suddenly, pointing towards the doorway.

Not working. Morgif already had what it wanted.

Prying his own fingers between Wolfram's pink flesh and the sharp teeth, Yuri managed to get the sword to relinquish its hold on the blonde's poor molested nipple. Immediately, pale hands covered the abused flesh, taking a step back from the perverted sword. Morgif moaned eagerly, attempting to drag the maou back to his stunned fiancée.

"What have you been teaching that thing," said fiancée demanded angrily. "Look it! I'm actually bleeding! That sadistic hunk of junk!" He jumped back when Morgif lunged forward again, sending Yuri almost an entire step forward.

"I didn't do anything! He must just, like you," Yuri breathed out in annoyance. "You know how Morgif is."

"He always went for girls before," he replied, simply, still covering his chest. "I don't know why he'd suddenly go after me, unless he saw you doing it with a pretty boy." Wolfram glared. Yup, he was definitely in one of his moods.

"He probably never saw you with your shirt off before." Yuri managed to fight back against the sword, finally throwing it back into the trunk, and locking it. Moans of anger drifted from the heavy wood, muffled and demanding attention.

Both boys let out a sigh of relief, simultaneously.

"Are you alright," Yuri finally asked, walking up to his betrothed. "Let me see."

Wolfram allowed him to remove his hands from his flesh, letting them fall passively to his sides.

"It's not bleeding too bad," Yuri murmured, touching the side of the pink skin, where it blended into the white skin. "No worse than a shaving cut, anyway. Want me to get a bandage?"

"I can't wear my shirt with it bleeding," Wolfram shrugged, blushing a bit. It was nice being looked after. "It'll stain silk."

There was, really, hardly any blood there, so Yuri absently licked his thumb and wiped off the tiny spot of blood from Wolfram's skin. The blond stared at him as Yuri licked the blood off his thumb.

"Is that safe?"

"Er, I just assumed you didn't have any illnesses," Yuri shrugged, now also feeling a little shy. "My brother used to do that when we were little."

"Oh. He really cared for you, didn't he?"

"He always took care of me," the dark haired boy agreed with a small, dopey smile on his face. "I always loved my brother. He'd always clean my boo boos, either with spit, or water, if it was bad, get me a drink if I had been crying, and then he'd kiss it all better."

"You made out with your brother?" Wolfram stared, shocked. Sure, incest wasn't that uncommon here, but from what he had heard about the other world…

"No! He kissed where it hurt."

"How would that make it better?" Wolfram continued to stare at the flustered boy. "If it hurts, you shouldn't touch it."

"It's just how it works," the maou replied, voice shrill in annoyance. "Don't you comfort children in this world?"

"Not by molesting them!"

"It's not molesting! It's just… Here, let me show you." Yuri leaned down, turning his head to one side so he could let his lips press against the rounded edge of the pink skin, where the tiny knick was starting to congeal over with blood.

"Yuri! Wolfram!" A small, cute voice sounded from the doorway. "Conrad told me to bring back Yuri's shirt. I spilled pie on my nightgown last night and… Oh! You're acting like you're married already!" Both their heads turned to center their eyes on the little girl that had entered the ship's chambers. The girl who was clad in only an expensive, silk blue shirt that could pass as a nightgown on her.

"I'm just kissing Wolfram's boo boo, Greta," Yuri explained, calmly. He had kissed Greta's wounds before; she knew how it worked.

"It looks like…a bite mark," Greta frowned, looking up at her two fathers. "Yuri you shouldn't bite! That's mean!"


End file.
